


where the wild things are

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Back to Middle-Earth Month, Bingo Bonus, Doriath Week 2019, F/F, Magical Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Vaginal Fingering, fem!Beren, monstrous!Lúthien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 20:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Who is more wild: the clawed and fanged princess with a feral spirit, or her untamed, unkempt wife?





	where the wild things are

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse the cheesy title, it was the best I could think of.
> 
> ...also, yes you read that correctly, this /is/ tagged as a B2MeM fic, despite us now being closer to B2MeM 2020 than the one I participated in last March! This is for G49, which technically didn't get hit, but whose prompt combos intrigued me. So I'm not exactly ~late~ just exploring possibilities...though I am definitely very, very late on some other combos, oops.  
The prompts were "Warrior Maiden" from the Archetypes card, "promise/eastern/echo/cloud" from the Four Words card, and "Beren: the scraggly, unkempt mortal" from the Silm fanon inversion card. Together that drew images of fem!Beren/Luthien, which was piqued my interest... although I didn't get around to writing it until just now, for Doriath Week's Day 2: Luthien!
> 
> I drew heavily on some headcanons for this fic, the first being that Luthien and Daeron are siblings as they were in some early drafts, and the second being Luthien's Maia heritage giving her some unearthly, monstrous qualities... such as fangs, claws, horns, etc. (Thingol is the OG monsterfucker, but Beren could give him a run for his money!) Luthien being not-at-all-human and extremely magically powerful also gave me an explanation for how Beren could become pregnant (and thus the world not Utterly Break).  
In this 'verse, I think the Lay of Leithian went very similarly, but with a little more cooperation from Luthien's family - namely, Daeron. Daeron sympathizes with a female Beren much differently than he did a male one, and probably helped Luthien escape Thingol's tower. Thus, Daeron is not MIA in search of his sister, and provides a source of some limited communication between Doriath and the lovers' hideaway in Ossiriand. Additionally, I'm going with an interpretation where Luthien's body didn't change after she became mortal, just the fate of where her spirit will end up. (Although [body changes are fun too](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471450)!)
> 
> This is also the first time I've written anything explicit, so be nice? For months now I've been "fading to black" before sex scenes and wondering if I could/should go a little further, but for this fic I was like "fuck it" and just kept writing. I hope it turned out okay... I've only come around to even reading explicit fic within the past like year soooo I'm pretty anxious about this!!
> 
> One last note: "fae" is simply the Sindarin word for "fëa."

"They say the warrior-maiden has beguiled me," Lúthien snaps, "that it is an insult to my people that a scraggly, unkempt mortal has stolen me away—!"

Beren laughs softly, drawing her lover close with a kiss. It never ceases to amaze her, the wild ferocity of her wife, the way her eyes flash with cold fire and her claws and horns and fangs betray the ferality bestowed upon her by her fey mother. Yet in her arms, Lúthien's anger soothes into a soft cloud, gentling and intensifying all at once into a gift of her father's elven nature: a burning passion giving rise to promises that had tied their fates together from the first.

"You mean Saeros says those things, and Daeron echoes them because he, like you, has no tact," Beren murmurs. "It runs in the family, I suppose. Your brother's words are as blunt as yours, though less pretty."

Lúthien sighs and traces the curve of Beren's swollen belly. Beren shivers at the touch, still astonished that her wife's shape-shifting fana allowed this miracle to occur.

"And shall our child carry it also?" Lúthien purrs.

"Aye, they shall," Beren says, dizzy with love. Lúthien slips her hand between Beren's legs, gently teasing the tender flesh there. Beren moans, the slight prick of Lúthien's claws stirring a fire in her belly, and her wife grins wickedly at the sound.

"You are no primitive thing," Lúthien whispers, fangs nipping ever-so-slightly on Beren's earlobe, not quite hard enough to draw blood. Her fingers swirl lazily around Beren's pearl, and Beren's head lolls back, exposing her neck. She is a warrior-maiden, yes, with muscle and stamina and strength that carried her through dreadful battles in this life and the one past, but Lúthien can undo her so easily, can bring down her defenses and draw out vulnerability.

"I first saw you in the wood," Lúthien continues, her voice a hiss like rain striking hot embers, "and you were noble to my eyes. A warrior, a lady, a princess in your own right." She punctuates her flattery with a kiss, hot and fiery on Beren's lips, and then another, and another, tracing a trail down that brown, muscled neck.

"I was immortal twice over." Lúthien hums, her teasing fingers settling into a steady rhythm that has Beren trembling. "But when our eyes met I saw a life and a fire in you such that I would have surrendered my _fae _in that instant, if only to be yours. That desire never left me, and I consummated my wish upon our wedding day."

"Lú," Beren groans. Her mouth has reached Beren's collar, and she loosens the buttons of her wife's shirt with her teeth. Cool air washes over Beren's breast, a moment later replaced by the heat of Lúthien's kisses. Beren is sore and tender, so close to bearing the child in her womb, but Lúthien is merciless, and Beren would not have her wild wife any other way. "Oh, Lú!"

"Shh," Lúthien scolds, drawing away from her wife's heaving breast. Beren regrets her outburst immediately, all but whimpering as Lúthien draws back with lidded cat-slit eyes. "I caught you in my spells, your people say. Drug you hither to Morgoth's halls, from wild forests to the eastern wastes. And my people—hah! they say it was you who enchanted me, bewitched their faery princess and stole her from her perfect spring."

"They both have it wrong," Beren rasps, keeping her thoughts together best she could. Within her she feels their child stir, and Lúthien pauses for a moment to stare in wonder at the sight of the tiny limbs pushing at her wife's stomach.

Beren takes advantage of this momentary distraction to lunge at Lúthien with an impassioned kiss. She tumbles on top of her wife until it is she who straddles Lúthien, her thighs pressed tight so Lúthien's hand may not escape from betwixt them. Lúthien laughs, a sound like silver charms caught in a storm, and her eyes gleam as Beren settles above her. Her claws tweak Beren's pearl until she cries out, waves of pleasure coursing through her.

"What is the truth, then?" Lúthien drawls, still in control despite the new position. "Tell me, Beren daughter of Barahir, are you the proud mortal brought to grovel before the noble elf? or am I the treacherous fey you tamed with your unholy schemes?"

But Beren cannot answer as Lúthien drives her wild, her fingers nimble and her quick kisses drawing pinpricks of blood. She gasps, pushed over the edge by the sudden flame of Lúthien's _fae _at the edge of her consciousness, going limp and dizzy as she finds her release.

She collapses in the arms of her wife, and Lúthien tangles still-slick fingers in her hair, kissing her tenderly upon the forehead.

"I have no answer," Beren mumbles, cradling her child-ripe belly, her mind overwhelmed with the love and passion of Lúthien's undying care. She is already half-ascendant, half-asleep as she so often is after such a climax, but she struggles to keep awake to hear what Lúthien says next.

"I think you do, though I forgive you your lapse in focus," Lúthien teases. She kisses Beren again, slow and sweet, as though they have all the time in Arda and not the ever-dwindling breaths of those doomed to mortality. "Let me tell you, _meleth nîn_."

"Mm," Beren hums, listening with closed eyes.

"I am the wild creature, bound to none but you," Lúthien murmurs. "I am the shining thing to which you swore your life and loyalty. I am a fallen star and you the sword forged of my metal; I am the witch's familiar who swapped a master for a lover. I caught you in my snare, but you caught me in yours. And _that_ is what foolish Saeros, and my stubborn father, and my brother who grieves for a life not yet lost, and even my too-wise mother cannot see. That I chose you, and you chose me—not to bring hope to the world, nor a Silmaril to my father's hand, nor even a precious child to your holy womb—"

Lúthien rests a hand on Beren's belly, and Beren sighs, sleep covering her like a blanket. But even as she drifts into peaceful dreams, she hears her wife whisper one last secret:

"—nay, none of those things; oh, my sweet, we are one for the sake of love, and love alone."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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